Lest We Forget [OS Dominion of Botor]

[Arabella Darkhold]

Objective A
Post 1

She watched the parade as it meandered by her leaning over the balcony for a better view she could not help but take notice of how much had gone on that she had not been part of.

Her father had not been found it was a reality she had to face he was gone until he decided to come back, or until the next life. She tried hard to suppress the painful memories and the feelings of weakness that she had so successfully suppressed for so long.

She would not allow the past to tear her down, she had found strength in her solitude and in her meetings with those who understood her need for solitude and interaction.

She observed the Sith walking in the parade, there was one dark-haired. Tall, dark and handsome it was hard to judge how old he was but his chest bore the medals to show his success. There was a blonde man beside him about the same height and equally stunning, but just a bit less intimidating. He looked as though he was remembering some old joke while the other remained grim faced.

It was the moment she thought of him as grim that he looked up and stared at her. Had he heard her? Their eyes locked, she tried to continue to gaze like she had not noticed. She tried looking down again but he and his friend had moved on with the parade.

How odd.

She continued to watch contemplating what her next move would be, a message had come there was a place for her on Vena if she wanted it. She had two weeks to decide it would mean leaving Atrisia. But it would reconnect her with the others.

What was she to do?

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

Objective: Survive the onslaught
Allies: One Sith, [member="Natalya Selanne"] | [member="Sera Inkari"] | [member="Kylath Connar Amadis"] | [member="Ebon"] | [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"]
Enemies: Assassins played by [member="Krayzen Dratos"]
Post: 5/20

The crack of guns emerged into a cacophony, weaving and intertwining noises into a perfect music of war and death. The screams of the fallen could still be heard, but now their voices only pierced the veil of noise as faint echoes of their immense agony. The scent of blood was rife in the air, especially for those with amplified abilities in their olfactory senses, and it brought with it the promise of rent corpses, and piled bodies. Perhaps one of the greatest effects of the recent combat had proven to be the heat that had turned the once cool battleground into a sweltering desert. It was ridiculously hot in some places, capable of burning the flesh off of some simply by being too near an area where once white phosphorous, or dragonfire rounds had been fired at some unsuspecting opponent.

Abelain found it rather enjoyable. It was like taking a bath in one of the many steam geysers of his home, though admittedly it was beginning to grow too warm even for his own standards, and his lungs grasped with minor difficulty at the scorching air. He stood amidst the chaos, his cape swaying in the wind. He had used the Force to amplify his speed a few moments earlier, and now found that he needed to rest for at least an instance before continuing, he needed to regather his breath before he could fight once more. The enemy did not intend to give him the break that he desired, and he felt a tremor in the Force that warned of inbound danger. Multiple grenades were hurled in his direction once more, and he flicked his hand upwards, sending a telekinetic surge out from him and sending the canisters away from him by several meters.

Something harsh struck into his side, leaving a minor fracture within his chitinous exoskeleton and sending him lurching to the side with pain. The soldier to his side fired again, striking the fracture and cracking it slightly further than before. Another round came, one after another, and Abelain quickly began to deflect the slugs with his crimson lightsaber, allowing the blood-red plasma to swallow the projectiles in it's light, or to redirect them towards the unfeeling ground. Another surge of warning attempted to pierce his concentration, but it was ignored and a moment later a heavier projectile burrowed through his shoulder, tearing a small chunk of the chitin away and leaving leaking blue blood to spill out along his exoskeleton. The hole was fairly small for how large the weapon had been; a testament to it's strength, but the pain it presented was not lessened, and the Arue'tii shrieked in frustrated agony at how he was being surrounded so thoroughly.

He channeled the anger, speedily weaving his way in a serpentine fashion towards the nearest enemy combatant. Once near, he would grasp at his arms and attempt to twirl him around, disarming him if possible with his elbow blades and presenting the smaller humanoid as a body shield against the inevitable amplification of firepower against him. When it came in the form of dragonfire rounds, burning past the temperature at which his chitin could truly stop with ease, he would hold the entrapped soldier aloft, and use him to deflect enough of the immediate heat so as to prevent it from melting the Arue'tii inside of his natural armor.

His eyes flicked over towards a commanding presence, one who seemed to be directing the immediate combat, and he called out towards what he perceived to be fellow Sith combating their own hostiles, his voice tinged both with hatred, and pain: "That one seems their leader! Execute him, and the rest may yet yield."

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Objective: A - Mourn
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: [member="Krayzen Dratos"] │ Assassins
Location: Just Outside the Hall
Nearby: [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] │ [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] │ [member="Kyros Fen"] │ [member="Txon Taronyu"] │ @Tymon │ [member="Sabine Kurtass"] │ [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] │ [member="Darth Erebos"] │

2/20

Ebon’s kept in vivid motion, blurring strikes and blinding defenses all rolled into one enraged Zabrak. He spun, dodged, and struck all in one fluid action, a flying ball of saber death amidst a crowd of unfortunate victims. Carnage fell in his trail like dust in the wind, Ebon it’s decisive force.

Still, despite his less than stellar focus on the force, Sargon cried out to him in a pulse the danger that approached. A number of troops fired their dragon envy induced weaponry towards him in a flaming display of poorly played tactics.

In the crowded vicinity of the atrium, blocking the fire rounds made for an easy move. As fast as the rounds were fired, Ebon had already grabbed one of the local guards, holding him on his back in a reverse choke hold. The meatbag served it’s purpose great, blocking the shots with his armored body, but Ebon already knew another grenade was on it’s way.

With the same stellar force, he threw the now charred body and himself forward like a ram into the crowd. As the explosion made it’s way outwards, he could already sense what the purpose of the grenade was. It was no more than a sith mockery of the mandalorian technology he had faced in the Primeval’s campaigns years prior.

Disgusting.

Still, somewhere in the midst of it all, he could feel blood dripping onto his black robes. A slug had made it past his defense, and it found itself lodged in his lower left quadrent. It didn’t hurt so much as annoy him. He tossed the body from his shoulder and listened to the distant cries of an acolyte attempting to cut off the beasts head.
He likely failed to realize there was a succession in the enemies hiearchy, but he’d muse him, if not for the moment. In swift motions, he threw the body from his shoulder, and began a rampant charge through the crowd to find this young xeno acolyte.

 

[Jack Mirrikh]

Objective: C (To Catch A Creep)
Location: Sewer?
Post: 9/20

"COWARD!!" was the cry that was let loose from the lips of Jack Mirrikh. The double syllabic word resonated down the lonely, dark hallway with a ghoulish staccato. The atmosphere changed almost immediately, much like a mood swing. Instead of stuffy tunnel, the air became chillier and it seemed as though the walls themselves were caving in towards him ever so slightly. Jack began to have second thoughts and perhaps even regard his choice of words as foolish and hasty. However, the thought was soon perished from his mind and replaced by steaming hatred for this illusive quarry. As such, he continued his tirade of the "man".

"What manner of Dark Force User are you, phantom!? You cannot possibly be Jedi nor Sith. The Jedi at least have the stones to seek out and face a Sith. Another Sith would not conduct themselves in a shamefully cowed manner, such as this! I shall chase no longer! If you truly wish to evade me, then I shall let you slink off into the dark. If you truly wish to face me, then you shall have to instigate. I'm done chasing you..."

He stood there in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed. Soon after, a dark, shadowy figure emerged slowly into his reality at the edge of vision down the tunnel. As it drew closer and gained visual resolution, Jack started questioning his life choices that had lead him to this frightening point....

 

[Kelon Amadis]

Location: Finishing the Ceremony, onward to the bar.
Mission: Be Kelon
7/20

Few sith were as arrogant, sexist or outright a bastard as Kelon Amadis, something he prided himself on, flexing his huge metal crushgaunt he wore on his right fist. Stark contrast to kylath he cared not one iota for the dead, as long as it wasn’t him. Duty done at the ceremony, bulky Sith trooper armor still on he was off to the find the nearest bar as ever, hopefully with at least 3 twi’lek dancers he could detain for questioning.

With steps which suited his size, he kicked in the nearest door, pulled a man out of his char, and put his oversized feet up over the table, lighting up a cigarra the size the smaller mans hand. “Which one of you lucky ladies wants a night on the town.” As usual all he got was a roll of the eyes, till he tossed the pouch of trinkets and jewels in front of him, spilling across the table. He’d just be taking back the credits from the barman at the end of the night, what did it matter for him.

Blowing a large amount of smoke in previously thrown man's face, as they gave him a look like who do you think you are? They coughed and decided better of it, sure enough one or two of the dancers wanted that money, always did, his huge hand over the top of the bag made them sit down first, and then he let it go relaxing back one arm behind his head, it disappeared just as fast as you might think, with one or two squabbling for the bigger gems.

Turning over his many ringed free hand, as always he was decorated in his looting and pillaging across his armor, displaying his overabundance of wealth that he’d just taken from others. It was good to be a Sith, but better to be a pirate. "Drinks, now." Kelon said to the less than impressed barstaff, so he tossed him a credchit and all that bravado suddenly didn't mean anything next to the money in the man's hand.

 

[Arabella Darkhold]

Objective A
Post 2

And then the vision passed when she looked down again she knew that accolades were not the order of the day, it was destruction and death to those that would oppose. Bella stood up, with one elegant move she jumped the balcony and landed on the ground kneeling there as she gathered her strength, slowly she stood up. Cobalt blue eyes still scanning those around her feeling their emotions, their hate, their fear and then the others, their aggression their need for...war.

She put her hand to her light saber and yet did not draw. She drew upon the force having it flow to her and feel the pull of her darker instincts. This, was the moment the matter of choices.

She felt a presence, she turned to meet the angry eyes a citizen, knife in one hand he had run the distance from wherever to where she stood, his intent clear upon his mind, Bella looked at him, "You think killing me brings back your dead, or mine." Bella waved her hand and the knife flew away, "go home before you get hurt"

Bella turned and walked towards the growing sounds of war, destruction, and revenge. She had pictured such an easy day, she passed a cart with popcorn and helped herself to a bag. She was never one to get her hands bloody she preferred working through the minds of others. Popping a few kernels into her mouth, she watched those around her.

This was a pretty good parade.

 

[Sera Inkari]

Sith Nearby - [member="Ebon"] | [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] | [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] | Kylath, Natalya
Enemies: Assassins played by [member="Krayzen Dratos"]
Post 8/20

With her performance, feeling real weakness was exposed. Kintan's priestess held little stability against conditions such as unholy non force, as she would come to call their grenades. Counter to what could be considerable force attunemant, given time, practice and being allowed to continue her training with their living force unhindered. [member="Abelain Narv'uk"]'s voice called below, targeting suspected leadership of their aggressors, something Sera might capitalize on from her position, granting greater sight above their battle.

Senses slowly returning, her erratic force scream abated, banshee voice silenced, something her cohort [member="Niaana Ren"] had developed before her return to their force, further than Sera had yet dabbled. Standing again atop their balcony, her gaze grew to encompass their assassins below, drawing deep down to find their force, scars atop her otherwise pretty face reminding her, that misuse of her birthing techniques and lack of control came with prices all their own.

She struggled restablishing sensation within her finger tips, refocusing her mind and finding clarity. Depriving her force connection was to take away Sera's arms and legs. Little by little she felt running force through her limbs, filling her once more, swelling with connection to their living, breathing world, and she felt that hatred at disconnection from everything she was. Pouring forth as flames licked and spat, temperature of air above them ignited and streams of liquid fire poured out of her hands toward [member="Abelain Narvu'ik"]'s indicated assassin, seeking purifying removal of their suspected leadership, on this one sith holy ground.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[2/20]
Objective: C: Security. (Protect Konrad and assassinate the assassins).
Location: Funeral Massacre.
[member="Krayzen Dratos"], [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"]

Darth Ophidia had always told her apprentices one thing: Success or death. That was the life and creed by which she lived, taught, and killed. Encompassed in that sacred phrase was the concept of constant vigilance. An assassin should be on constant watch for signs of a hit. Nine out of ten times, there will be no danger. However, that one moment when danger appears, one must be prepared to act immediately. An assassin could not afford to be distracted.

The wig itched, as even the best wigs were prone to do. As she raised a hand to casually scratch the itch and pretend to move a strand of hair behind her ear, she seized. Something was wrong; the motion and mood of the crowd had shifted. This was the one out of ten.

She had checked the drinks, so poison was not the likely method. Noted persons had moved away from the centre, indicating blast damage. Different people had different ways of staging an attack, based on their experience. This reeked of military or paramilitary experience. With the civil war fresh in mind, she knew what she saw. Knowing full-well the extent of her protective abilities, Ophidia could tell that she only had so much time to react.

First order of business: Protect the primary concern from the immediate blast. She leapt from her chair and with a few quick steps positioned herself adjacent to Konrad von Grimmelshausen. A force-field of shimmering, translucent energy enveloped her and the High General. Dirt, shrapnel, fire and fumes enveloped the field of protective energy. All around her, Ophidia could hear the emerging screams of agony. A hand pressed against the outside of her field, but she did not open up. The space within the bubble was already confined.

The Rattataki Sith Lord, disguised as an Echani, peered through the smoke and death. As ripper-shots collided with the outside of her force-field She had to commend the audacity of the operation. All the same this would not go unpunished.

Spoiler

Edit: As agreed upon over skype, I moved to protect Konrad. Which makes sense to Ophidia's mission.

 

[Sera Inkari]

Sith Nearby - [member="Ebon"] | [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] | [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | Kylath, Natalya
Enemies: Assassins played by [member="Krayzen Dratos"]
Location: Atop a balcony.
Post 9/20

No matter how often she had practiced these flames, her abilities were that of an acolyte, and so her jetting combustion seemed to die away around her, as quickly as it had come. Causing Sera to stagger forward to hold on for balance. If she had hit anyone she could not say, but below surely the assassins confronted with so many stronger Sith Force Aura’s, would soon be feeling their effects regardless. One Sith precedence over future events well contained.

Wrapping her robe up around her, she turned from their battle, to allow time to regain her composure and energies, still reeling from feeling her force disconnection, however minor, she needed to meditate on these implications for her future, of which now many branching paths might arise. So finely balanced were these possible ripples in their force to come.

Kintan’s priestess extended her hand, to see desert fire burning providence across her palm, allowing closure to her part in their battle, as her control within her dream returned fully. Soft steps taking her from their conflict, and toward where the dead were being remembered, for she had business there of her own. Sera saw a stronger presence there and below, something of a guiding spirit within the flowing malestrom of chaos present at such discharges of energies. Those grenades, perhaps they were certainty within such actions, bringing such energies to heel, or obstacles to be overcome.

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Walking with the parade to its conclusion, its aftermath always near.
Post 10/20

As with Sera's reflections, pieces of him, after the ceremony was done, he stayed in the aftermath where he was made. While his acolytes battled the growing menace alongside knights and lords, the presence inside the armor drew down into the stone of this place, his steps carving his own imprint into the physical ground and into the force as he moved, as all did if they knew it or not.

A distance away from the throngs of battle, the vong shaped maul had taken the place of his once left hand, becoming more as history and memory. The form of Krayt’s last memories itself would have drawn strength from the rich history of the one sith here, perhaps those memories were gaining more influence in the battle for dominance the Sith Presence fought daily, as they were not only darth presence embedded inside his living skeletal structure.

Like the many Sith Lords of old whose purpose dried up, they became like the stone, their tombs, like the dead here of their parade, forgotten save some unlucky acolyte or padawan disturbing their rest. The Sith dead and Raien still had one thing those dried dusty Sith Lords did not, purpose shaped, and walking in time behind the dead, history and memory. While their individual lives mattered nothing to him, the Sith Code was born out here in the dead to see it made, as he would become soon enough. In that each fallen solider had purpose to a greater ongoing war than they'd ever realise.

 

[Jack Mirrikh]

Objective: C (To Kill A Creep?)
Location: Sewer?
Post: 10/20 or half

The figure fully solidified into the shape of a skinny, menacing man and it was at that moment...Jack knew...He messed up. The man stepped toward Jack with his fingers steeped against each other. His first steps toward Jack made Jack take a step back before he realized that he shouldn't simply lose ground to the mere presence of this...whatever he was. So, he stopped instinctively retreating a couple paces and stood his defiant ground, lightsaber ignited at his side. The man stopped a couple feet away from him and proceeded to pace slowly to the left and right. Back and forth, he strode, his eyes never leaving Jack's own eyes. After a short, tense moment of silence, the man spoke up.

"That was a good use of Dün Moch you exhibited there. However, it was not your barbed words nor your heinous insults upon my honor that which drew me out here to finally meet you face to face. You are, currently, worth enough of my time to size you up some more. Most would have considered that an honor...if not for the fact that most whom knew me are now dead."

"I don't understand what you're raving on about. Why are you here? Why are you stirring up trouble?"

"Oh, come now! So high and mighty? So pious? I believe you, of all people, know what it means to break the shackles of society and live life by your own rules. What's life without chaos, negativity and adversity?? Peaceful? What is a life of only peace?!? Boring; that's what it is...I am the other half of equilibrium! I AM Darth Alshazar!"

"I've never heard of you..." A flare of frustration rippled through Alshazar, but he quickly reminded himself that it only made sense.

"Not much was known of me, for I had accomplished far too much and the far too jealous were incapable of obtaining my secrets. They chose to spite me by acting as thogh I didn't exist. Then, few would know to look for my belongings, which made it easier for them to profit. Alas, things didn't quite...turn out the way they had hoped. I have to say that I wouldn't be here today without them." At this, he pulled a small, red and brown book from his robes. He wiggled it a little and then placed it back into the folds of his robe.

"Knowledge is power, my boy. I wonder how many years it will be before you to truly and wholeheartedly grasp that strong and powerful concept."

A strong cacophony of alarm bells and high strung emotions played throughout Jack's body. Yet, there was one particular point that he felt needed to be addressed.

"How...how do you know my name??"

 

[Darth Centax]

Sith Nearby - [member="Ebon"] | [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] | [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | Kylath, Natalya
Enemies: Assassins played by [member="Krayzen Dratos"]
Location: Moving amid the assassins to defend the senior officers.
Post 11/20

While the melee heated up, bodies left and right. Kylath found himself somewhere close to [member="Darth Ophidia"]. The acolyte moved toward her position covering as a rear guard, assuring no lucky shot got through unexpected. The captain looking for a key position to make a stand himself, seeing the Sith Lord and who she was defending as a point to focus on.

Whether Kylath had hit home with his first shots or was successful in flanking he could not say, pulling his energy riot shield to himself from its resting position inside. He slung the rifle strap around his shoulders and advanced behind the shield, what would eventually be the hallmark of a certain breaching company at a later date, personally experimented on here. Slamming the deflection field into the nearest assassin he found (hopefully), and then bringing the metal frame down into anything left of him on the floor, hopefully leaving a mark, if needs be finishing the man with his saber.

Kylath braced the riotshield to his arm, the value in it was, that behind it he was unseen, while he could see all ahead of him well enough. Taking a grenade from his belt he threw it forward and braced beneath the shield. Blast sending stone and debris up into the air, no doubt taking fire along its surface to rebound away. They had weakened his force connection with their grenades, by Kylath was a soldier at heart, and a Sith Warrior well enough now, tossing the riot shield into the next nearest assassin to hopefully give the man a short sharp shock of its deflection field, his weapon angled a slice right and left, as Ataru took him clear over their heads.